


As They Touched

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [300]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Feelings Realization, First Time, Genderfluid Loki (Marvel), King Thor (Marvel), M/M, Semi-Infidelity, not compliant with anything really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 02:23:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20323525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: The bed shifted, the silken sheet slipped, and Thor, King of Asgard and newly-crowned All Father, awoke just enough to squint into the sands of early morning light.





	As They Touched

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: This absolutely delicious panel of Thor in bed from issue 1 of the new Loki comic which for the life of me this morning I cannot find online. Shall add it here when I do.

The bed shifted, the silken sheet slipped, and Thor, King of Asgard and newly-crowned All Father, awoke just enough to squint into the sands of early morning light.

“Mmmm. Loki?”

Just beyond the bed, a slim figure stopped. “Brother.”

“Where’re you going?”

“Nowhere."

Thor raised his head a little and got a better look at Loki’s bony shoulders, the long tangle of his dark, snarled hair. “Now, now,” he said. “Don’t lie to your king.”

That got him a stink-eye, a perfectly curled wrench to his brother’s mouth. “Oh, please.”

“Ah, how I love to hear you say such things.”

He’d meant it as a tease, another way of needling, but when the words left him, they emerged into the world quite sincere, even to his own ear. Perhaps this was why they made Loki blush.

“So,” Loki said, “I am now very aware.”

It was only now as Thor’s eye adjusted to the shadows that he could see the angry bloom of love bites on his brother’s throat (Loki’s head fallen back, his nails in Thor’s neck, his voice loud and sweet--_harder_, he’d whined, shoving his soft flesh against Thor’s mouth. _Oh, fuck, darling, use your teeth_) and what roused him was not so much their presence but that Loki had allowed them to remain, these iris reminders of Thor’s eagerness and their shared desire. A desire, it seemed, that had simmered for centuries, a boil-pot they’d both allowed to linger on the stove and yet, until last night, never spoken of one to the other. And even that might not have come had Loki not come to him after supper shaking, the tremble in his body fiercer than any Thor had ever seen him wear before.

“You never cease to amaze me, brother,” he’d said when Thor let him in, when he froze just inside the doorway with his eyes dark and his fists closed and clenched. “Just when I think you’ve finally discovered some fucking sense, I swear, it’s as if you go out of your way to prove me wrong.”

Thor laughed. He’d had far too much ale and too pleasant an evening to let Loki’s temperamentalness shake him. He said as much. Which only seemed to incense Loki more.

“You’re making a fool out of yourself,” he’d said, thumping two fingers at the center of Thor’s chest. “You do realize that, don’t you? That...that _ boy _ is far too fragile for you. And far too dull, might I add. Are you really proposing to spend the next thousand years with a human like that in the sack?”

“He’s to be my consort, not my courtesan.” Thor brushed his brother’s hand aside and felt some of his good humor cracking. “And I can think of no better man for the task.”

“Man, pah! Precisely. I know you’re always set a store by Midgard, Thor, but that’s a far cry from marrying one. That's taking things a bit too far, don't you think?”

“I’m not going to argue with you about this, brother. It’s none of your concern and neither are you in any position, might I add, to be questioning your king."

“My king,” Loki sneered. “Yes, that is what’s got you back on your high horse, isn’t it? Stick a crown on your head and slap a gold patch on your eye and suddenly, you’re the All Knowing.”

“Yes,” Thor said. “That is exactly how it works.”

The expression on Loki’s face was more than a storm; it was fury. Never before had Thor seen his brother’s eyes so alight, so alive, and he was trembling again, so violently now that his hair had tumbled from its knot and lay shaking on his shoulders and it was as if Loki felt so much anger that his body could barely contain it, a butterfly about to burst from the nest.

“You’re making a mistake,” Loki spat. “A dreadful one, frankly. That boy--”

“His name is Steven.”

“That _ boy_,” Loki said again, louder, “is not what Asgard needs. He’s not what you need, Thor. I know you can’t understand that because you don’t think with your brain, you never have, and this Steven, I think, appeals too much to your cock and perhaps even your heart for reason and good sense and the betterment of your fucking kingdom to have even the slightest chance.”

Thor grabbed his brother’s arms, each fist a vise at Loki’s elbow; the soft glow of the evening was gone. “You will not talk about him that way.”

Loki laughed, the sound and the color high in his cheeks. “I shall talk about him however I like.”

“Even you don’t have that right.”

“Wrong. I have every right. You’re just too much an idiot to see it. You always have been, though. I don’t know why I thought when we came to this moment it would be any different.”

He shook Loki hard. Hel, he hated riddles; hated them more when they came from Loki’s mouth, for even if he discovered the answer, there was always some barbed truth hidden there. “What moment?”

“This!” Loki said. The word rang from the walls, high and wild. His gown had slipped from his shoulder. “The moment of your marriage, brother.”

“I’m not married yet.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Would I be here if you were?”

“I don’t know!” Thor had shouted. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here now.”

And here Loki had gone soft in his grip, the tension in his brother’s body falling away, leaving only dark eyes and a slow, resigned sadness in the lines of his mouth, in his eyes. “Of course you don’t,” Loki said. “Which is why I must do this, or I shall never forgive myself. And if there’s one thing I can’t abide carrying along in this life, it’s remorse.”

Then Loki’s hands had been on his face, a long-fingered frame, his own grip broken as easily as silence, as glass, and then Loki’s mouth was on his, gently; a tentatively posed question, not a demand.

It was this softness that had taken Thor aback, that had startled him at first into submission and then, as his hands found his brother’s hips and swallowed the curves of his ass, he came to understand that what he felt all at once in his heart, in his blood, was no trick. There was no pretense left between them, he thought as Loki’s lips parted for his tongue, as his thumbs stroked the scratch of Thor’s cheeks; no more anger, no more fury. There was, as they touched, only this:

The stays of his brother’s gown tearing and the green-gray falling away, Loki’s body cool against his tunic, the gorgeous ache he felt to have that skin against his own.

Loki on his back, his legs spread. The smell of his sex as he watched Thor undress.

That first moment of union when he slipped into the folds of his brother’s body. The sound Loki had made. The way he had whimpered Thor’s name.

And then they had done it again, and again: winding themselves together in the king’s bed, Thor’s bed, and whispering things to each other that had for too long gone unsaid until exhaustion found the gods and swept them to sleep, intertwined, Thor on his back and Loki curled up against him, his dark head settled on Thor’s chest.

“Loki,” he said now, remembering, adoring. “There’s no need to run.”

His brother tightly clutched the sheet he wore about him. He was trembling again. “To be here isn’t my place," he said. "Surely even you--especially you--can understand that.”

“Your place is where you wish for it to be.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.” Thor sat up. He ached to stretch out his hand, but as he stood there, Loki seemed less like the fervent creature he had always known and more like a frightened bird searching for a reason to fly. “Even if I would like you to stay here with me.”

“Your servants will be in soon.”

“And?”

Loki bit his lip. “And if I am here when they do, it will be no secret.”

“And?”

“And, brother, word will find its way to your betrothed.”

“Better he know now rather than later.”

His brother’s eyes flew to his. “Knew what?”

“That I, as you are so fond of saying, my love, have been an absolute fool.”

And in that moment, Thor knew that it was so; knew that, somewhere in his heart of hearts, beneath the armor of Asgard, of their father’s expectations, of war and diplomacy and all the trappings that came with being at last a king, he had always loved Loki, always needed to have him near, and it was only now he understood that the closeness he’d always sought in conflict was so much more perfectly realized here in his bedchambers, between the whispered song of soft sheets, his brother moving beneath him in exquisite rhythm as together, they reached for the stars.

Loki’s jaw was set, but in his mouth, now Thor could see the need there, the ache. “I’m not in the mood for jests.”

Thor shot to the base of the bed on his knees and reached for his brother, knocked the sheet, the last fears he clung to, to the floor, and growled: “Neither am I.”

This time, when he claimed Loki’s cunt, his brother was astride him and the room was filled with light: the sun stretching her fingers around the edges of the drapes and the stretch of Loki’s smile, his own.


End file.
